Knight Watch
by MandiRose28
Summary: Harry used the Floo to talk to Hermione about something important- life. One shot.


**Knight Watch**

Harry's head appeared in the fireplace. "Hermione? Do you have a minute?"

Hermione laid the book she had been reading, a thick academic text, on the bedside table and approached the hearth. "Of course, Harry," she replied cheerfully. "How are Ginny and children?"

"Oh, they're fine. Really terrific, actually. Some days I feel like I've won the Daily Prophet's Grand Prize Galleon Draw for life."

Hermione smiled softly. "I'm glad things are going well for you all. After everything that happened, I'm very pleased that you got a chance at true happiness."

"Thanks, Hermione, but I really didn't Floo to talk about myself. I'd actually like to talk about you. How are things?" he asked. Hermione did not fail to notice his careful tone.

"Things are as well as can be expected; nothing has changed, really. Why do you ask?" Hermione could just barely make out that he had run his hand through his thick hair, somewhat nervously.

"It's just, well," he started, "everyone's been wondering when you are going to get on with things."

"Harry, to what 'things' are you referring?" Her voice indicated a rising tension.

"You know—life. Husband, home, children, happiness. Those sorts of things."

"Harry James Potter, how dare you!" Hermione yelled. "Does Ginny know you're talking to me about this? That you're being so incredibly stupid?"

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. Sometimes Hermione could be a little over dramatic. "Yes, Hermione, my wife is well aware of what I am speaking to you about. In fact, she encouraged me." Hermione gasped slightly, and Harry continued. "She's worried about you. _I'm_ worried about you. Everyone is, in fact, very concerned as to what you seem to have chosen as your mission in life. You deserve better, Hermione. You deserve to have anything and everything you've ever wanted."

"Don't you think I know that," she snapped back. "Don't you think I know that I have the ability to make my own decisions, to choose my own path?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "Have you ever considered, for even a moment, that, as unconventional as it may be, this is no mere mission to me, but it _is_ my life? That I can't bear the thought of 'getting on with things' when _he_ was never given that chance, was never allowed to make his own choices?" She pointed to the bed behind her. "That man there, he gave up everything for us—you, me— for all of us. I will not stand idly by as our entire community continues to let him slip from their memories, devoid of care, compassion, or even gratitude. He is the reason why we are still able to live amongst the Muggles in relative peace, why we still even have a wizarding world. You, of all people, should understand what it is like to not be given a choice. You were 'The Chosen One', 'The Boy Who Lived'! I am honoring his sacrifice every day, and I will not let him fade into obscurity."

"Hermione, did you ever consider that he sacrificed his chance at a normal life so that others would not get stuck in the same predicament as he, or even I, did? Did you ever consider that he wouldn't want this life for you?"

Hermione looked away, tears stinging in her eyes. "Every day," she whispered, "but that just makes me want to stay even more." She sniffed. "Just go, Harry. Tell Ginny I send my love," she said quietly.

"Hermione, please—"

"Good-bye, Harry," she said, more forcefully, but still not turning around.

"Alright then. Good-bye." Harry's head disappeared from the fireplace.

Hermione blinked away the tears, then turned her eyes open the elaborate four-poster bed in front of her. The heavy green bed curtains were trimmed in silver, and there were matching blankets, thick and comfortable, on the bed. His thin frame could barely be discerned beneath all of the covers, but his pale countenance and dark hair contrasted where they lay upon the pillow. She walked over to the bed, and pushed his hair back from his forehead. "I'm sorry they don't understand," she whispered. "You deserve so much more than all of this."

She sat back down and resumed reading aloud to him, as she had every night for the past fifteen years. She would not forget all that he had done; she would not abandon him. He was, after all, her knight in not-so-shining armor.

_Maybe, someday, he'll wake up_, Hermione thought to herself. _It wouldn't be fitting for him to wake up and have no one waiting for him._


End file.
